Transition
by Little.Miss.Xanda
Summary: The war had changed all of them. Some were a bit cracked, others were broken. Lucius hated that he was one of them. He hated what his life had become. The world he had known was no more, and he felt completely out of place in this new world that was rising from the ashes. Then he was shown that even though some things had changed, others hadn't...


**Disclaimer** : This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

 **Written for Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition – Finals Round One**

 **Prompt** – **Pairing Diversity –** Welcome to the first round of the finals! Are we all ready? I hope so, because you need to be here first to get what you want. Below is a list of ten characters. ONE member of each team must claim a character **for their team** and post below who they're taking. That is, each team will effectively be assigned one character. It is then up to each member of the team to pair that character with any other; but the catch is each position must pair them with someone different. For example, if your team picks Teddy, two members can't pair him with Victoire.

This is a first come first serve on characters, no double claims!

 **Picked:** Lucius Malfoy

 **Seeker:** Lucius Malfoy/Harry Potter

 **Seeker for the amazing Wimbourne Wasps**

* * *

 **Transition**

He was broken. So very broken. He hadn't thought it possible for the consequences of the war to be what they were.

The war had ended. The Dark Lord was dead. And he had lost everything.

He had fought for what he believed in, and now he had nothing to show for it.

His manor was a pale imitation of what it used to be, his fortune spent on trying to stay out of Azkaban. His wife had left him – unable to deal with the consequences his actions had caused, and his son… his son couldn't even look at him.

Not that he could look at his son either. He despised the shattered look in those eyes, especially because he knew that the only reason it was there was because of his choices.

The Malfoy family, once so proud, was nothing but a shadow of its former self; the guilt of it almost pushed him to the point of no return.

A knock on his window brought him out of his thoughts. He couldn't help the surprise he felt; it was rare to get post these days. No one wanted anything to do with the Malfoys, no one wanted to be _tainted_ by being associated with them.

He almost snorted when he saw the crest on the letter. The Ministry, of course. He may be unwanted amongst polite society, but his gold was still as valuable as anyone's.

A ball to celebrate the one year anniversary of the Dark Lord's death.

Bitterness filled him at that thought. Celebrate the day he had lost everything. It was ironic. It was cruel. It was something Potter would do.

Potter, the golden boy, sure had taken advantage of his new popularity. Lucius certainly hadn't expected it. He honestly didn't know if anyone had expected for Potter, of all people, to go into politics. But he had, and he was surprisingly good at it. Surprisingly vindictive as well, hence the invitation. Lucius knew he couldn't refuse. If he did, there would be little comments all over the Prophet. He had seen it happen to many of his former associates. Their business reduced to nothing after a small remark from Potter. Last he heard, the Parkinsons had left the country.

He sighed and wrote back his acceptance.

* * *

It hadn't been an hour yet, and he was already regretting having come. He despised the way people looked at him. There was fear in those eyes, but not tinted with respect as it had been before. Now there was hate, contempt, mocking, glee. He hated it. Not that he showed it. He was a Malfoy – no matter how sullied the name was, he would not show these people his weakness. He would not give them the satisfaction.

There was, however, a pair of eyes that was so very different from all the others, and Lucius could feel them following his every move.

Brilliant green, full of amusement and mischievousness.

Lucius didn't know what he hated more, the looks the crowd threw him, or that one. Truthfully, what he hated more than any of it was the curiosity burning in his veins – the intrigue that consumed him for the last half a year every time he saw those green eyes.

"Lucius, welcome."

He turned, looking right into those very same bright green eyes.

"I believe congratulations are in order," Potter said, eyes sparkling with that same amusement that always captured his attention.

He merely lifted an eyebrow, not willing to give Potter more than that.

"Draco's engagement," Potter elaborated, raising an eyebrow.

He couldn't stop the widening of his eyes. Draco was engaged? Since when? To whom?

"He didn't tell you," he heard Potter murmur, and sneered.

"I am sure you find the situation amusing, considering just how you have treated those of us that were on different sides of the war. Does it please you to see the Malfoys so shattered?" He surprised himself when the words left his mouth, however he didn't regret them. He was tired, so very tired, and he would not be Potter's plaything. He would not let Potter bait him. No matter what, he still had his pride.

Those green eyes narrowed, and Lucius could see why the Dark Lord had considered Potter such a threat. It wasn't only the magic that was at Potter's disposal, it was that iron will. It was the determination to do anything to achieve his goals, even dying. It was his charisma, and the hope he brought to so many. Potter was a fearsome enemy to have; something, Lucius was sure, the Dark Lord must have thought too in his last moments.

"Actions have consequences," Potter said. "Very few of those that walked free accepted that. However, I don't like seeing families torn apart. Saw too much of it during the war."

Yes, Lucius could imagine him having seen far too much during the war. They all had. He didn't believe that anyone thought, even the Death Eaters, that the war would be as gruesome as it had been. The darkness of that year had been overwhelming. He might not be Light, but even he acknowledged – at least now – that pure darkness lead to nothing but ruin.

"Have a nice evening, Lucius."

Then Potter was gone, gliding through the masses. Lucius followed him with his eyes, watching as he charmed even those that would have sneered at being in such close contact with a half-blood.

Lucius made his way out of the Hall, having stayed long enough to not appear rude, and just before he flooed away his eyes were caught by bright green.

* * *

Lucius contained the sigh that was threatening to leave him. It was a week after the ball and he had sent a letter to his son, asking – almost begging – Draco to meet with him. He hadn't mentioned the engagement. He wanted to give Draco the chance to tell.

He had received no reply letter from his son, but he had still gone to the meeting place. He had hoped that his son would have shown up, even if only for a minute. Now though it was two hours after the meeting time, and any hope Lucius had of Draco showing up had been completely shattered.

He should have known, of course, but there had still been that tiny grain of hope.

"Lucius?"

He glanced up, seeing Potter standing near his table. Behind Potter was the Minister – Shacklebolt, former member of the Order, and close friend of Potter's if rumors were to be believed – and the youngest Weasley boy with Granger. All three were looking at him, no sign of hostility in their expressions. Not that it really surprised him; all three of them could easily crush him if they were so inclined. They were now the top of society, and Lucius… well, Lucius _wasn't._

Potter waved the other three away and took a seat at his table, quite rudely in his opinion. Potter smiled at him, the honesty in that smile was almost painful.

"What are you doing here? If we had seen you, we would have called you over to have lunch with us."

Lucius almost snorted. He doubted that the Minister would have called him over to have lunch; once upon a time it would have been expected, not now however.

Potter's eyes narrowed, as if he knew what he was thinking.

"I was waiting for my son." He truly didn't know why he had answered. What a pathetic image he must paint.

Potter's eyes darkened, and his shoulders dropped just a little bit.

"I'm sorry." Potter sighed. "Draco… he is trying. He doesn't know how to interact with you right now. It is not his intention to hurt you."

"You are friends with my son?" His hand tightened around the glass he was holding, and for a second he was afraid it would shatter.

"Friends… you could say that. At least we are able to go through a whole meeting without cursing each other." Potter smirked, his eyes twinkling slightly. "I think our generation grew closer than any of us thought possible. We survived. We are utterly broken, still picking up the pieces and trying to put ourselves back together. It is disconcerting to find out that the pieces don't quite fit anymore. Even so, we try, we do our best, because we survived. It is the least we can do for those that died. Draco… even if he was on the other side, fits right in with the rest of us."

This… this was a side Lucius had never seen of Potter. The child soldier that had won a war for an ungrateful world. How many more like Potter were there? ' _Our generation_ ' Potter had said; had they truly damned a whole generation? A whole generation that were old too quick, and died too soon?

Lucius looked away from the too knowing eyes. He wasn't sure he could deal with the answers he saw in them.

"Is that why you went into politics?" he asked. "To do the best you can?"

Potter leaned back in his seat, looking completely relaxed, but his eyes gave him away. They were sharp, with a sly gleam in their depths that captivated Lucius far more than it should.

"Partly. I went into politics because I want to change things. The Ministry was the first to fall. It was so corrupt that Tom practically walked in and took over. Even before that, the Ministry was nothing but a breeding ground for corruption."

"And things are better now?" Lucius wanted to laugh. He had seen the people at the ball; he lost count of how many of them he had bought to be kept out of Azkaban.

"No, they aren't." Lucius felt the privacy wards going up around them. He could feel the secrecy spells interwoven with them. He looked back at Potter, barely able to contain his surprise – he hadn't even seen Potter take out his wand. "Things are not better. But now I control them." Potter leaned in closer and it took everything in Lucius not to lean back. "Why do you think Death Eaters stayed out of Azkaban this time? We could hardly send the majority of the Wizarding World to jail, could we? So, we studied the cases. Those like the Lestranges were taken care of, and those like you were set free. Of course, we couldn't just let you walk away, so we let you spend your money. Most of it is now in the Ministry's coffers, being used to fund the Auror Department and help out St. Mungus. The same happened with the money the others _invested_ in their freedom."

Lucius knew he was practically gaping at the young man, but at that moment he truly didn't care about decorum. He just couldn't believe what he was being told.

"Of course, we couldn't just let all of you walk away free. We have been monitoring you closely. Parkinson… well, they learned nothing, did they? They walked around as if they owned the world. They went right back to pushing for their blood purity laws, bribing, blackmailing, and threatening their way in the Wizengamot. We couldn't have that."

Th malicious glint in Potter's eyes seemed so out of place in a Gryffindor. However, it looked perfect in the young man Potter had grown into.

"Those little remarks in the Prophet."

Potter smirked, looking quite smug for a moment.

"The rumor mill is wonderful. A whispered word here, another there. And then, casually mention in front of a journalist how the Parkinsons refused to do business with those of lesser blood, and that it was things like that that facilitated the beginning of the war. People are so afraid, it was all it took."

"I never thought you had it in you." And it was the truth. Lucius had never thought that the Golden Boy would have it in him.

"We have it in us, _we._ Kingsley knows, as do Hermione, and the Weasleys. Neville too, and Luna. Several others as well. We fought for this world; we are not willing to see it brought down by racists."

Lucius almost flinched at the tone.

"Why tell me?" He was sure that he was part of those Potter considered racists. Was it a warning?

"Because, Lucius, I truly believe that you have changed." Potter smiled softly at him, again the honesty of that smile almost hurt. He couldn't remember the last time someone had smiled at him so warmly. "You are more than a Death Eater, Lucius. You can be more than one, more than what you are now. Stop hiding in the shadows of your Manor. This is a whole new world, with a dash of the old one. Come out to play, and enjoy it."

Potter grinned at him, stood up, and left.

* * *

It started out slow at first, but Potter's words bounced around in his mind and he couldn't make them stop. So, he went out. Took his seat back on the Wizengamot. He did nothing much at first. He took part in the sessions, voted when it was needed, but most of all he watched. Watched how Potter twisted words to his liking, and how he made both Dark and Light agree with laws that neither side would have agreed to before. He watched how some members – former Order members – presented outrageous propositions that made Dark supporters refuse them outright, only for Potter to sweep in and direct them towards milder versions of those same laws leaving the Dark faction happy to have gotten their way. Lucius was sure he was the only one who saw the smirks traded between Potter and the Order members in question, and he only saw it because be was looking for it.

It was fascinating to watch.

And slowly, Lucius joined in. He started supporting the bills that followed the outrageous ones, even presenting a few ridiculously dark ones himself. Though, what he liked best was when Potter gave him bills that were extremely pro-muggle. Those always caused a riot. And Potter – or sometimes one of those that Lucius had dubbed in his mind as Potter's Inner Circle – would refute it on the spot, defending Wizarding rights and traditions – gaining the support of the older families.

It was brilliant, and Lucius was still stunned that they were pulling it off.

Potter had been right: it was a whole new world, a better world, with just a dash of the old one.

Lucius couldn't wait to see where it would lead.

* * *

"Lucius." He turned around, slightly surprised by the voice he hadn't heard in going on two years.

"Narcissa, you're looking well." Manners kicked in and he bowed slightly, kissing her hand.

She smiled at him, a true smile, something she hadn't done in years.

"So are you."

"I wasn't expecting you here. I didn't see you at the previous ball." Though, if Lucius were being truthful, he hadn't paid all that much attention at the previous ball, too busy drowning in guilt and self-pity. It was astonishing just how much could change in a year.

Narcissa chuckled softly, her eyes bright with life, and Lucius found himself smiling. It was good to see that the pain of war was leaving her as well.

"I didn't come last year. I needed a little more time. France was just what I needed."

"I'm glad." He truly was. They may not be in love anymore, but she still was a dear friend to him. "I'm glad you're happy."

"I am, Lucius. I hope you find happiness as well."

Without his permission, his eyes sought out the dark haired wizard that was talking with a group of wizards and witches, a smile appearing on his lips when he saw the young wizard laughing at something his friend said.

He looked back towards Narcissa, noticing that she had followed his stare. Lucius didn't particularly like the mischievous smile that spread on her lips.

"Maybe you have found happiness already," Narcissa teased. "Draco did hint at something like this."

Lucius shook his head, a grin appearing briefly on his lips when he looked back to the group of wizards and green eyes caught his.

Yes, he certainly had found happiness. Or maybe, happiness found him.


End file.
